Let's Make a Deal
by TourmalineTrue
Summary: Teen!Stewie. What happens when Brian and Stewie make a deal, but although Stewie makes good on his end of the bargain, it's been years and Brian still hasn't paid up? This time there's no beating, but Stewie still isn't pleased. Previously published under a different pen name. Please see my profile for details, thanks!


**Warnings: langauge, slash, bestiality, lemon, rimming, anal**

**Disclaimer: I claim no ownership of Family Guy and intend no copyright infringement.**

**Let's Make a Deal**

Stewie was in his room playing with his action figures one evening when Lois came in and announced that while she, the Fat Man, and the two oafish teenage inhabitants of the house were heading out to go to Meg's student quiz bowl competition, Brian would be staying home to watch him.

"Yes, he gets to be the one to stay behind because it's _his _birthday, the lucky bastard," she mumbled under her breath as she stood there in the doorway. Then she noticed something Stewie was doing that apparently struck her as inappropriate. She frowned slightly. "Stewie, what sort of a game are you playing with your action figures that their pants need to be off?" She walked forward to where her infant son was playing on the rug and bending down, seized one of his toys, along with the discarded trousers, and preceded to tug them back on.

Stewie climbed to his little feet and hopped up and down before her, arms outstretched, hands opening and closing in midair, grasping in vain for his figurine. "I say, give me back Sergeant Sexy Six Pack! There's nothing wrong with having a healthy curiosity about the human body, you old prude! Although-" he gave it a second thought, "there _would_ be something wrong with learning about the human body by looking at what that particular soldier has below the belt- there's nothing there but a disturbing smoothness."

Stewie waited a few minutes to give the goon squad time to leave, then pattered down the stairs in search of Brian, to spend some quality time with the dog.

He located him quickly enough, slouched on the sofa, and it was clear from one look at him that he was in one of his funks.

"Oh, what now?" the child asked with more irritation than he felt. His friend's gloomy moods always brought about a sense of concern in Stewie, naturally, considering how deeply he cared about the mutt, and also because he knew Brian's depression was something to be taken seriously, having learned the grim truth during the bank vault incident. But many of Brian's miseries _were, _after all, as far as Stewie could figure, of the dog's own making, and Brian didn't really do anything productive, that the baby could see, to try and make his life better, either. At least nothing smart. "What _are_ you so depressed about, Brian? It's your birthday." He scrambled up onto the couch and sat beside the dog.

"Exactly," Brian muttered darkly, propping an elbow up on the arm of the sofa and sitting his chin in the paw of that arm, his expression morose. "Another year older. Death looms ever closer.

Stewie froze a little. He certainly did not like at all to think about the day when Brian would no longer be with him. A world without Brian was unfathomable. Everything in Stewie's was absolutely dominated by the dog. Every day he woke up and couldn't wait to see Brian, hear his voice, hear what he was going to say next- even though there was a fifty percent chance it would be something douche-y. Before he left his crib in the morning, he tried to construct a strategy so that he might spend the most time possible with the dog that day without seeming clingy or revealing his true feelings for him too overtly. Every choice that he made, he asked himself how it would affect Brian. Every dream he had for the future had Brian in it. He loved Brian as much as he loved his own life.

"Regardless. A birthday is a time for celebrating. Tomorrow you can brood all you like. Everybody worries about getting older. Hello? Crows feet?" Stewie softly tapped the skin at the corners of his own eyes. "Let's not dwell on such dismal thoughts tonight," the baby advised in a carefully light and even voice. "Let's turn on the T.V. instead."

"We now return to the Real Housewives of Newport, Rhode Island!"

"Give it a rest, Lorraine, you old hoebag, ain't nobody care that you didn't get invited to Alicia's son's girlfriend's cousin's pet Persian's _Cat_ _Fancy_ photo shoot!" sneered a mid-fifties housewife wearing a pink and green polo, standing playing croquet with two other women.

"But _Vera_!" whined her companion. "You owed it to me to get me an invitation after your fight with Mallory at her father's ninety-eighth birthday party caused him to have a heart attack and die! The again," she tapped a talon-like nail on her chin as she appeared to reconsider, "I guess I _did_ came out the winner anyway, because they were able to take his old man back fat and put it in my back_side_ to make it more juicy." She bent over and pulled down her shorts enough to reveal the top halves of two grotesquely wrinkled buttocks above her thong. "Now I can compete with all the hot young women at the club for all the hot, young men. Look out, cougar on the prowl!" She made a cougar claw for the camera.

"Save some guys for me!" exclaimed the third woman. Even being obviously shot full of facial fillers- or, rather, because of it- she couldn't hide that she was past her prime. "I need to find a husband to be a stepfather to my son. They told me sixty was too old to have a child, but I had the dough and I wouldn't take no for an answer. With the help of the sperm bank and a very money grubbing doctor, I was able to conceive a child. He's got more handicaps than you can shake a stick at, but it's all worth it to finally be a mom." She sighed blissfully.

"Okay!" announced Brian, pushed past his annoyance threshold already, picking up the remote and clicking off the television.

"Hey! What did you do that for?"

"You're right; I can't just sit around and mope all night on my birthday. It's too pathetic." Brian jumped down to the floor and snatched up his keys from the end table. "I'm gonna go get drunk."

At the door, he stopped and turned back toward Stewie.

"You wanna come get a drink with me?"

"Really?" He was at Brian's side in a fraction of a second. "Will that even work? Will they serve me?"

Brian tilted his head slightly to one side, considering. At last, he slowly nodded. "Yeah, I think so. Horace- the bartender- is a good guy, but, like most of the citizens of this town, pretty much a total dimwit."

"But just in case, I could make myself up to look like an adult," Stewie suggested. "Ooh, I could put on my Karina outfit! I still have the wig and the dress…"

Brian cringed. "Please don't."

They set out in Brian's car for the Drunken Clam.

At the bar, Brian stubbornly remained in a lousy humor, so that at last Stewie could conceive of no alternative to vanquish the dog's doldrums but to ply him with alcohol. And because Brian had gotten from seemingly nowhere some cockamamie notion into his head that he couldn't be the only one drunk on his birthday, the baby imbibed as much as he did, matching the dog almost drink for drink. Before long, the both of them were totally smashed.

"Oh, the _Chicken Dance_!" Stewie groaned in annoyance, slamming his glass down and sloshing gin and vermouth mixture everywhere when the jukebox suddenly started playing that song. "Wha- what the bloody _deuce_ is so great about the Chicken Dance? It's such a cli-cliché song to have fun to! I mean, get a- get a new novelty song all-already! Most people have had enough of it after the fit- the fifttthhh grade, but there's always some- somebody who still g-gets excited about it! Some dumbass motherclucker-"

"You got a problem with chickens, pal?" came a voice from behind him. Stewie craned his neck around the side of the booth to get a look at this individual and saw a chicken sitting there who was the height of an average human man.

"I beg-" He had to stop to hiccup, "-I beg your pardon?"

"I said 'you got a problem with chickens?'" The chicken appeared to be spoiling for a fight, and it caused Stewie to feel alarmed. He didn't have any weapons on him, and with or without them, he wouldn't be able to defend himself well while he was this intoxicated.

The chicken continued to look belligerent for a moment longer, then gradually his fists unclenched, and the fearsome scowl dropped from his face. He made a slight sweeping motion with his wing that seemed to indicate that Stewie had been reprieved.

"Aw, you know what? Forget about it. I never punish the son for the sins of the father." And the leviathan fowl threw down some money on his table, got up, and walked out of the Clam.

"What was that all about?" Stewie asked, turning to Brian.

"Huh?" Brian had evidently zoned out during the interchange between the baby and the bird. "What wa-was what all ab-about ?"

"Tha- that giant chicken that was just here, getting all irate with me!"

"General's chicken? Hell- hell yeah, I could tote- totally g-go for some general's chicken. Let- let's go see if there's a Chinese place open." But Brian made no move to exit the booth.

Suddenly, as moods were wont to do when a person was trashed, Stewie's started to swing. His thoughts turned to what had been making Brian so melancholy earlier, and he was beset by a crushing worry and sorrow.

"You know, it scares the bebejeez…the bejazzlus…the- the Bee Gee Brothers," he gave up on trying to 'bejeezus' and just said, "it really ter-terrifies me to think of you not being around anymore." He flung his arms around Brian's neck and sobbed hysterically into the dog's shoulder. "Oh, Brian! Brian! Brian!"

Brian's head jerked. "What?" He began to look around in all directions of the bar. "Did you h-hear that? I, I think- I think somebody's calling me." Then he happened to glance down and to the side and notice the weeping child. "Hey, wha-what are you crying about, kid? Don't cry," he urged, attempting to soothe his little buddy with a pat on the back.

"You know- you know what I'm g-going to do?" asked the baby, sniffling, pulling back from Brian's shoulder. "I'm going to find a way to make you live longer. As long as me." And he smiled up confidently at the dog.

"H-hey, if you can do _that_," laughed Brian, sitting up a bit further in the booth, eyelids growing visibly heavy, "on your eigh- eigthteenfh birthday, I'll give you one hell of a night!" Then his eyes drifted closed all the way, and his head lolled on his neck as though on a slinky. A second later, his neck couldn't support it at all, and it fell forward, smacking against the tabletop.

**BREAK!**

The waiter was starting to give them dirty looks.

Evidently, this restaurant was a very popular spot for Sunday brunch after church, and if the Griffins weren't ready to order, well, they should be willing to do the courteous thing and give their table to another family. The line at the hostess's stand went practically out the door. But even after more than half an hour, when they were approached and asked for a third time and if they would consider letting their table go to a group that would order right away, Lois maintained (with precious little courtesy, snippy bitch) that they were _keeping _it, thank you very much, while they continued to await the final member of their party.

Stewie wished Chris would hurry his colossal ass up and get there. He was starved to death. The teenager was on a new diet where he allowed himself to eat whatever he liked on the weekend, but so far he hadn't had the chance to partake of anything near as delicious as the stuffed French toast this particular eatery served. He sulked in his corner of the booth, one of Meg's beefy arms jammed against his ribcage. On her other side sat Lois. 'All the Griffin women on one side of the booth!' Peter had laughed when they had slid in this way. Such jokes were flung out by him at a rate of about ten times a day at the minimum since Stewie had come out of the closet a couple months ago.

The waiter appeared at their table a fourth time and let them know that they'd now been occupying the booth for almost forty-five minutes without ordering, while other would-be patrons stood in the background, more than ready to sit down to a good meal.

"We've been very patient with you people-"

"Well, you just continue to be so," Lois retorted crisply. "Patience is a virtue, after all, and particularly since this is Sunday, you'd be good to practice it."

"Fine!" The waiter stormed off- as he did so removing his apron, wadding it up, and tossing it at one of his fellow waiters. Before disappearing through the swinging double doors into the kitchen, he called out over his shoulder, "Liam! Your table now!"

Liam, a very handsome young man whom Stewie recognized from school, shrugged and tied the apron on.

"Mm," Meg murmured, licking her lips. She actually licked her lips. Stewie shuddered in disgust. "Well, I'm ready to order. Break me off a piece of that."

Her youngest brother turned to her with a grimace as he informed her, "It may be of interest to you that I happen to know who that is. His name is Liam Perkins and he goes to high school with me, you pedo! He's in my biology class."

"How am I a pedophile?" Meg demanded defensively. "A pedophile is attracted to children, and from where I'm sitting, your friend Liam looks like he's _all man_."

Stewie must say, Meg had turned into an even bigger disaster than they had all expected. At thirty-three, she had absolutely zero noteworthy prospects, professional or romantic, being a chronic singleton who worked cleaning the floors at the mall's food court.

"If he's in your class, Stewie," Lois cut in, in her most simpering, 'aren't-I-just-so-helpful' voice, "why don't you say hello to him?"

"Because I doubt if he even knows who I am," replied her youngest child, a bit peevishly, even he had to admit. He was trying to curb his tendency to whine, being as he was almost an adult now. Though with Lois especially it was often rather a hard resolution to keep to. "We've never spoken; I bet he's never even noticed me before."

Brian snorted. "Like he could help noticing you. Aren't you the one at the front of the class who says things like, 'Pfft. We're going to learn about mitosis and meiosis? That's our lesson for today? Really? I've known about those since I was six months old'?"

The imitation of Stewie's voice he'd employed while saying such was piss-poor, but still made the teenager smile. The dog and Stewie exchanged grins that baffled their companions, who had absolutely no idea that Stewie was a genius as a baby. Hell, even _now_ the incorrigible fools were barely aware of the vast reaches of his amazing intelligence!

Just then, Chris's trademark shrill, scratchy voice could be heard calling to them from across the restaurant, and moments later, the hefty blond man came gamboling over to join his family.

Chris was the biggest success story the Griffin family had ever produced, having by some miracle managed to graduate from the Rhode Island School of Design and afterwards land a good job in advertising.

_Just you wait, family, _thought Stewie to himself. _Wait until I am out in the real world, leaving my profound, everlasting mark all over it! I shall put Chris's pedestrian accomplishments to shame. _

Chris tried to sit down beside his father, but it quickly became apparent that there wasn't room enough for the two biggest Griffins to sit on the same side of the booth, even with Brian, the smallest Griffin, making the third on that side. The canine found himself jammed smack up against the wall when Chris took a seat. He struggled and wheezed, trapped in the tight space between the wall and Chris's girth, unable to breathe. Stewie at once winced in sympathy and laughed.

"Fat Men, you're crushing Brian."

Some redistribution of bodies had to happen. They all shuffled out of the booth and moved around, trying different combinations of family members on each side. It took them a few tries to achieve a suitable arrangement. Peter, Lois, and Meg were on one side, and on the other side it was Chris, then Brian, and Stewie wound up back in the same place he'd started in. Upon taking his new seat, the white-furred dog smiled over at the teenager beside him.

Stewie smiled slightly back. All these years later, Stewie still considered Brian to be his best friend, and was closer to him than any other being in the world, but it was a friendship that was occasionally difficult maintain. Brian had been in and out of the house so many times over the years, having tried moving out in an effort to become self-reliant and lead an independent life on several instances, every so often forming his own household with whatever worthless piece of tail he happened to be in a relationship with at the time. However, he'd now been back in the Griffin house for four straight years. And even when he'd been living away from it- although it had hurt Stewie like hell- it hadn't marred their bond very much. The time spent apart, and however they'd each changed during it, hadn't been the biggest hurdle in their friendship. No, that had always been, and continued to be, Stewie's still-undeclared romantic love for Brian. It took its toll and then some to be just friends with him when he really wanted so much more from the dog. But he couldn't confess because he knew that Brian didn't feel the same. It would just make the canine feel awkward and cost them their friendship. And however hard it was living with this hidden longing, _that _would truly be unbearable.

By now, Stewie acknowledged fully the unlikelihood of his ever getting together with Brian, but he was also mindful of the part of him that would always be in love with the family mutt. One would think he'd have gotten over these feelings by now. But no. It would appear that his love sickness was incurable.

But if he couldn't find a cure for what the love bug had done to him when he was just an infant, his work in his secret lab had at least yielded by far the most important thing it ever had when it had achieved the perfection of a substance, that, once injected into Brian's bloodstream, altered his DNA by turning back the clock on his age, making him seven years old again, while also making it so that he now aged one year to every seven human years.

Chris was prattling on about some dinner party his boss had held especially to honor him because he'd recently headed up what had turned out to be a very lucrative ad campaign.

"Well, I can't tell you how happy I am that everything's been going so well for you, Chris!" exclaimed Lois when at last her middle child had wrapped up his mind-numbing anecdote. "And good things have been happening to your brother, too." She glanced toward Stewie, her face aglow with pride. "Stewie's going to Dartmouth, aren't you, sweetie?"

Picking an imaginary piece of lint off his new sweater, Stewie confirmed, with exaggerated casualness, "Yes, yes, it's true. I am New Hampshire-bound."

Predictably, poor, kindhearted, simpleminded Chris reacted only in happiness for his kid brother, not in bitterness at the fact that his position as golden child of the Griffin family was about to be usurped. His mouth broke into a wide grin and he reached across the table with his hand held up for a high-five. "Hey, that's awesome! Way to go, dude!" he enthused.

Stewie smiled tautly and somewhat reluctantly followed through with the high five, delicately and very quickly touching his palm to Chris's: one never knew where the latter's had been, after all.

"A full-ride scholarship!" his mother went on. "Isn't it terrific?"

Yeah, yeah, Stewie's whole freakin' life was terrific.

He turned eighteen in five days.

His birthday was going to suck.

Out of all the things he was disappointed about having failed to achieve before this milestone birthday of his, one thing stood out most conspicuously from the rest:

He couldn't believe he'd reached eighteen years of age, adulthood, with only a couple measly months to go before he graduated high school, without losing his virginity. He'd say he that he had no idea how in the world it had happened, but that would be telling a gigantic lie. Stewie knew very well how it had happened. It's just that it was a reality that he never would've foreseen for himself. Stewie never imagined he'd be so goddamned unpopular at school. Not in the sense that he was bullied or picked on; it was more like he was invisible. He'd spent the past four years striving to carve out a niche for himself in the social woodwork of the place. And he'd finally found one of sorts- with the other misfits- stoners and drama geeks and those socially-bereft type of girls who wore headgear and carried lunchboxes with anime characters on them. But in the romance department, it would appear that Stewie was shopping in a store that simply didn't carry what he needed.

Statistically speaking, it was impossible that Stewie was the only gay boy at James Woods High, but for whatever reason- Rhode Island being a notoriously red state, and the odds of them having pretty conservative parents or something- the others just weren't open about it. Naturally, Stewie had met a few whom he'd been able to peg as guys who liked guys, but hitting on their closeted asses was something Stewie didn't dare do, for fear of getting hassled for going around trying to force himself on supposedly 'normal', supposedly 'straight' students. The atmosphere at JWH wasn't exactly anti-gay, but it was very pro-heterosexual, and it was unfortunately rather contagious. It made Stewie lose his gumption. Although of course everyone must be able to tell his preferences, regardless. That meant trying to 'cross over' and ask a girl out wasn't an option, either, as they weren't too keen on the idea of being either a beard, or an experiment that was probably doomed to fail. None of them were interested. Except for maybe a few desperate chicks he wouldn't consider, anyway.

Actually, Stewie was _supposed_ to be having sex on his birthday. Absently, he recalled the bargain Brian'd drunkenly introduced one night…it had been the dog's birthday, he believed. (Somehow he'd managed to remember the majority of that evening out, even with how loaded he'd gotten). Brian had actually said that he would sleep with Stewie if the latter succeeded in extending the canine's life. Stewie had reminded Brian of that promise the very day he'd given Brian the injection that made such a feat possible. He'd been laughed at, of course. Oh, Brian had been extraordinarily thankful, had hugged the stuffing out of his little buddy, and ruffled the three-year-old's hair. But he'd also laughed.

And nothing had changed since then. Stewie was no closer to making Brian his than he had ever been- not even for a night.

So of course Stewie wouldn't be reminding the dog in five day's time of their little bargain. What good would it do? Stewie had ravenously hoped deep in his heart for the past seventeen years that Brian would find it in himself to requite the love that the youngest Griffin child had so long held for him. There had been numerous times, over the long course of years they'd known each other, when Stewie was convinced he saw Brian look at him, just for a moment, in an honestly romantic way. Not that he believed Brian to be in love with him or anything crazy like that, just that there might be some interest there. These instances seemed insignificant when taken individually, but when one added them up the way Stewie did…

But the rational side of him knew all too well that it was utter pointlessness. Assuming Stewie wasn't deluding himself, even if Brian did feel something beyond friendship for him, the dog would never do anything about it. It was surely nothing compared to anything he'd ever felt for a woman. He just plain didn't want Stewie as a lover.

Liam Perkins approached the table in all his teenage dreaminess, in all his blond Adonis glory, buff biceps shown off by the short sleeves of his uniform shirt, and undertook to write down each Griffin's order in turn. When he got to Stewie, a light seemed to come into his eyes. After he had jotted down that young man's food request, he looked back at same said Griffin and Stewie realized that the light had been one of recognition when Liam smiled and said, "Hey, don't we have Mr. Cole's third period bio together?"

Stewie's eyebrows rose and his jaw dropped a little in surprise. "Uh…y-yeah, yeah, we do. How's it going?" he asked tentatively, not wanting to blow his chance now that _Liam freakin' Perkins, _one of the hottest and most popular dudes in school and captain of the rowing team was actually talking to him.

"How do you think it's going? I'm at _work_," Liam quipped lazily, rolling his eyes.

Stewie threw back his head and gave a big laugh, though the comment deserved no laugh at all, then went on to listen with flattering concentration as Liam began to detail all the sucky things about his job, ignoring completely the group at a neighboring table that was signaling wildly for the waiter's attention.

**BREAK!**

"What're you doing?" asked Brian, standing in the door to the bathroom, watching as Stewie primped in front of the mirror.

The teenager helped himself to a healthy spritz of cologne. "Trying to get laid," was his breezy answer. "Got a big date with Liam."

Yes, Liam Perkins, the hottie from biology whom Stewie'd unexpectedly gotten an opening to talk to. They'd been hanging around together for the last two weeks, both at school and outside of it. They'd even went out to dinner on Stewie's birthday- ostensibly as friends, but Liam behavior to Stewie had a flirtatious undertone to it that was unmistakable. And tonight's invitation to come and watch movies at his house while his parents were out of town had Stewie utterly convinced that he was finally going to get some.

"Oh," uttered Brian tonelessly, his expression blank. Then quickly a snide smile slid onto it. "Wait, so you're trying to entice him into getting physically close to you with _that_?" With one hand he gestured to the bottle Stewie was holding onto and pinched his nose shut with the other. "God, it's freakin' noxious! How much did that cost you at Hollister?"

"Screw off, dog, this stuff is sexy." Stewie squirted some more fragrance on himself.

"Well, if this Liam guy enjoys the smell of skunkweed, then go for it. You always smelled fine to me without the addition of anything artificial."

Stewie put down the cologne bottle, turning to Brian with an amused expression on his face. "What?"

The dog looked as though he thought himself to have made a grave error. He laughed awkwardly. "Oh, nothing, I was just saying that your natural scent is uh…it's good, you know? You smell- your smell…I mean, what's wrong with it? It's perfectly adequate, it's fine without adding anything to it…"

Stewie suddenly felt a little short of breath. It was absurd that Brian should have meant anything by that unusual remark about Stewie's scent, or by his demeanor and the way he was stuttering around now. And yet, watching Brian squirm, he couldn't resist indulging his inner fantasy life a bit by pretending just for a moment that Brian _did _harbor a _very_ strong attraction for him, and was totally jealous of his plans with Liam. Even though he _knew_ that Brian had meant to make some perfectly benign comment that had just come out weird, and-

_My God, was the dog actually…blushing?_

"Just- nothing! Absolutely nothing." Brian started away down the hall. "Have a good evening, kid! If you get lucky, use protection! Okay, bye!"

**BREAK!**

Stewie jumped and dropped his keys onto the kitchen tiles when, upon entering the almost pitch-darkened room, seemingly out of nowhere he heard a deep, masculine voice tell him hello. Two seconds later it clicked that of course he knew that voice. He flipped on the light and glared at the individual in the room with him.

"You're home early," said Brian flatly.

"And you're up late for you," Stewie observed, crouching down to retrieve his keys. Brian no longer frequented bars and clubs. Maybe the injection had made him get over his midlife crisis, which would make a lot of sense, seeing as it had put Brian's age well before midlife. But if he wasn't acting like a middle-aged guy in full I'm-losing-my-youth freak out mode, he wasn't acting young, either. Brian had become a veritable homebody in recent years. Nowadays Brian stayed in every night, not even going to the Clam with Peter, and the light in his room would rarely stay on past ten. A moment passed and then with dawning realization Stewie asked, "You're waiting up for _me_, aren't you?"

"It wasn't my idea, Lois asked me to," justified Brian. "Which I at first thought might be pointless. I didn't count on you coming home at all tonight. Given what you told me earlier, I thought you might sleep over at Liam's. But now I see that of course you wouldn't have done that-" He stood and crossed his arms behind his head, stretching. "-because you didn't have sex tonight."

Stewie was filled with astonished displeasure. "How the devil do you know that? I mean, yes, I did! It was bloody fucking, fantastic, too!"

Brian grinned. "_Sure_ you did. _Sure_ it was."

"Brian, you can just go ahead and shut up now, because you don't know anything," Stewie sniped, glaring hard. He'd been disgruntled enough when he walked through the front door; now Brian had him seriously fuming. "Damn it, why do you always have to stick your mangy wet nose in where it isn't wanted? Why did you wait up for me?" He held his hands up in front of him to stave off the excuse Brian was about to repeat. "Okay, yeah, yeah, Lois asked you to do it, and of course, you're her lapdog, you'll do whatever the hell she wants, you'll stay up and wait for me to get home, but you didn't have to do it _this_ way. What were you doing sitting here in the goddamn dark?"

Brian's eyes flashed in clear resentment. His mouth flew open, doubtlessly wanting to lob some spiteful rejoinder at the boy, then abruptly snapped shut. He appeared to consider something, then put on his customary unflappable expression. "You're just further proving my point," he alleged. "This isn't post-coital behavior; this is the behavior of someone who got sent home with blue balls."

Stewie regarded him haughtily and drawled, "Well, maybe I'm just that much of a bastard that I'm cranky even after having mind-blowing sex!"

One of Brian's eyebrows slid upward before the dog let out a bark of disparaging laughter. "Not you. If you'd had _that, _you're the type to be standing here with a dopey smile on your face, about as antagonistic as the Swiss, offering to make me a sandwich."

This remark significantly disconcerted Stewie for a couple of reasons. However, not allowing himself to appear discomposed in the least, he turned a sneer on the dog.

"You've obviously given this some thought. Tell me, Brian, how many of your hollow hours have been occupied with musing about what effects sex would have on me?"

Brian spluttered and burst out heatedly with, "You- you're pathetic! All these years, making all these sly remarks and insinuations! I don't think of you like that, okay? And I never will! So do yourself a favor, alright, and put an end to all that wishful thinking." And with that he left the kitchen.

Stewie pursued Brian into the living room and to the stairs.

"Remember the little bargain we made seventeen years ago? You said you'd sleep with me when I turned eighteen if I managed to find a way to prolong your life span? Actually, you said you'd do it on my eighteenth birthday, so you're a little late, but better late than never."

"God, you're just chronically delusional aren't you?" muttered the dog scornfully, and with a heavy scowl turned and stalked on up to the second floor.

Stewie guffawed, making it sound as if he'd merely been messing with the canine and that Brian's behavior was a comical overreaction. But as soon as the dog had disappeared up the stairs, the teenager's head dropped to his chest, and he felt tears beginning to well up in his eyes.

The next morning, Saturday, Stewie left early to be at the mall as soon as it opened.

He spent most of the day there, finding ways to eat up time in tormenting Meg at the food court by making a holy mess around his table on purpose and throwing his pizza toppings at her. He also got in a fair bit of shopping and saw a movie. He wanted to stay away from the house for as long as he could. But by the time dinner rolled around, he was thoroughly sick of the mall. Back in the food court eating more junk food for a meal, he reproached himself for eating so much that was bad for his maiden figure, even though according to his diet, he could eat whatever he wanted on Saturdays. Seeing as he could think of nowhere else to go in sleepy little Quahog to kill more of the day, he opted to drive back to Spooner Street. He had to go home eventually, anyway. He had avoided Brian as much as he could for the day.

Stewie and Brian had certainly gotten into enough arguments before, but this time was different. It was like, in a way, he'd really gotten shot down by Brian last night. He knew that the dog was aware that Stewie's affection for him wasn't purely platonic (though he doubted Brian grasped the full extent of it, that the teen was truly in love with him). Brian would not have made that remark, all those years ago in the bar, about sleeping with him when he turned eighteen, if he hadn't thought that was something Stewie would want. Of course he knew Stewie desired him! How could he not? As he'd said, there had been all kinds of remarks and insinuations. And those were mild terms to describe the signals Stewie'd spent nearly his whole life sending Brian. They'd been categorical come-ons. And all those advances had always been simply brushed off by Brian. He'd never called Stewie delusional before. He'd never said outright that Stewie's hopes regarding him were "wishful thinking". He'd never made Stewie feel so foolish, or said something to cut him so deep.

Stewie wasn't afraid of Brian saying more things like that to him when he got home. It wasn't at all probable that Brian would bring up the fact that they'd had words with each other last night. Odds were he'd forgotten all about it, and even if he hadn't, he still wouldn't bring it up because to do so would be to open the door for all sorts of unpleasant conversations.

He was just reluctant to be around Brian because he didn't know if he could see the dog's face right then without hurting more.

When Stewie returned to the house, it was just his luck that Brian was the only one there. He found him sitting in the kitchen once again. An open six pack of beer was on the table in front of him and two empty cans were laying on the floor. Brian clutched a fresh can in one paw and a book in the other. It seemed like an odd combination; did _Women in Love _go down better drunk or something?

Giggity.

The dog informed him that it was going to be just the two of them for the weekend, as Peter and Lois had left to go spend some time sailing with Carter and Babs on Lois's parents' yacht. They were doing stuff like that more and more often lately, because, although Peter never wanted to go and usually threw a fit when he was told he had to, Lois had become adamant about spending time with her ancient parents while they were still in the land of the living.

Stewie wordlessly went and sat down next to Brian at the table. Brian offered him a beer and Stewie accepted. Silence settled for a minute or two while they sat drinking. At that point it was broken by Stewie, who, without entirely knowing why he did so, admitted quietly, "You're right. Liam and I, we didn't…we didn't have-"

"I know I'm right," said Brian, lowering his novel just so, just enough to make his smug smile visible to Stewie, who glowered but didn't say anything.

Brian read on for a minute longer, then set the book aside, sipped from his can of beer, and questioned, "Why not? You acted like you were so sure it was going to happen, and you seemed, uh, you seemed to be looking forward to it."

Stewie eyed the dog beside him and asked him dubiously, "You're really willing to talk about this with me?"

Suddenly he didn't look like he was in the least, fidgeting and averting his eyes. "Well, maybe it does make me sort of uncomfortable. Since I'm as straight as they come, I can't really relate in that respect, but…you know, look, Stewie…you always listened to my problems with women. Getting your heart stomped on is getting your heart stomped on. Relationships are relationships. Listening to you talk about this guy won't phase me. _Of course_ you can open up to me. That's what friends are for, after all. We're friends, aren't we?"

"Always," Stewie said, without thinking, and blushed. He cleared his throat a little awkwardly.

Brian coughed, too, and looked at him sideways. "So what happened?"

"He'd been giving me all the right signals. Take last night- he invited me over to watch a movie, and made a point of telling me that his parents wouldn't be home," Stewie sighed, thinking back on the previous night. "But when I made a move on him, he totally rebuffed me. Said he wasn't gay."

"What?" Brian seemed shocked. Just as shocked Stewie had been when, upon trying to kiss Liam the previous night, he'd gotten flipped out on and been asked to leave the house. "You're kidding me. He lied, Stewie. I- I mean, for as much as my opinion's worth. You, ya know, would obviously have sharper gaydar than me. But he's so clearly bent. Boy, he's gotta be the biggest closet case to come out of Rhode Island since that senator who resigned last year."

Stewie chuckled at that. "It's okay, I'm not in love with him or anything. I just wanted to use his hot body. Onto the next," he said, trying to sound worldly. "Maybe the next guy I pick will actually want to sleep with me, although I doubt that I'll find him before I start college. So much for walking onto campus with some sexual experience."

Brian looked honestly taken aback. "What? You- you've _never- ?_"

"That's right, I'm a virgin!" confirmed Stewie with much false cheerfulness.

Brian was silent as he stared back at his friend.

"God, you don't even know me anymore!" laughed the young man, tousling his own hair in a gesture employed with intentional airiness to diffuse the awkwardness of the moment. He was already wishing he hadn't just confessed that embarrassing factoid to Brian of all people.

The dog again neglected to respond.

Stewie looked at the dog and suddenly an inexplicable tenderness welled up within him, and accompanying it a wave of nostalgia that barreled into him like a ton of bricks.

"Sometimes, I feel like we're growing apart," he revealed, scarcely louder than a whisper, a twinge of desperate emotion creeping involuntarily into his voice. "And I don't want us to."

"I don't want us to, either."

Brian had a particularly soft expression in his eyes as he looked at the young man in front of him. Soft, but also vaguely dark. Stewie didn't understand it. Brian put a paw on his companion's arm, then, slowly, began to stroke up and down it. Stewie sat silently and watched the paw move back and forth from wrist to crook of elbow. When he glanced back up, Brian hadn't taken his eyes from Stewie's face. Then, to the young man's incredulity, all at once he dove in and captured Stewie's lips in a passionate kiss.

"Mm!" Caught totally by surprise, the young man could initially only sit there passively, not responding to the kiss. When he came alive again after a moment, his only coherent thoughts were ones of confusion. What was Brian doing this for? He had to get to the bottom of this. He tried to pull away from Brian's surprisingly determined lips until he came to his senses and began to berate himself severely: _Why are you struggling, you idiot? The guy you've been head over heels in love with for eons is kissing you! Who the fuck cares _why? _Does this happen so often that you can afford to throw away this chance?_

So Stewie kissed back, practically attacking Brian's mouth and tongue with his own in his newfound enthusiasm.

At length, the dog broke the kiss, and hopping down off his chair, grabbed Stewie's hand and pulled on it.

"Come on."

Stewie looked at him in puzzlement. "Huh? Where?"

"Upstairs," Brian said firmly. "If you still want it, I'm going to give it to you."

Again, delayed reaction time for Stewie, once more sitting paralyzed with incomprehension. Then some sort of hysteria seemed to seize upon him, whereupon he began a fit of uncontrollable, nervous giggling. "No, you're not!" He blinked at Brian in blank astonishment. "Are you?"

The dog expressionlessly looked at him dead-on and asked, almost impatiently, "Do you want it?"

Realization hit him that the dog was in earnest, and he sprung up from his seat, heart pounding, the heat in his face broadening its reach, moving into his stomach and then his groin. "Yes!" he all but shouted, hurrying to follow Brian upstairs.

**BREAK!**

Every woman that Brian had ever done this with, who Stewie had so ferociously envied…now he knew what it was like to be in their shoes. Only, Stewie found himself not wanting to believe that Brian had been exactly this way with them, hadn't touched their faces quite so tenderly, hadn't kissed them precisely in this way, with deep, diving, sensual strokes of his tongue, as though he was attempting to sample something of their soul.

He didn't know why Brian was doing this, but he didn't permit himself to think for one moment that this would change anything. He wasn't so pitifully naïve to imagine that Brian had suddenly or would suddenly fall in love with him, but he would wish to believe that this was at least a little special to Brian. He hoped that the aftermath wouldn't bring only sheer regret for the canine, but that he'd actually be able to look back on it with some fondness, that maybe this would mean something to him because of all that that they had been to each other- if not lovers in any romantic, legitimate way. This was, after all, practically the only experience they hadn't shared with one another. It would be some small comfort to Stewie if Brian were to regard this onetime thing as a way to cap off their bond with something pleasurable before Stewie went off to college, leaving this house and its inhabitants behind in the none-too-distant future.

He had no pride. He emitted all sorts of shamelessly needy noises as Brian lay on top of him, kissing his lips one moment, then nibbling at his jaw and lapping at his neck the next. They were on Stewie's bed, and the young man was pressed back against the several plump, downy pillows that adorned it, running his fingers through Brian's super-soft fur. He could feel Brian's growing hardness against his stomach and gently writhed beneath the dog as his own desire likewise mounted, hips lifting slightly off the bed every now and then to push his crotch against Brian's leg.

Then, all at once Brian unexpectedly stopped kissing him. There was a moment of horrific dread as Stewie lay with his eyes squeezed shut and breath held, waiting to hear the awful word from Brian that he had changed his mind. Instead he heard:

"I think you have to be naked for this."

Stewie opened his eyes and blushed at the look that was in Brian's. He'd always imagined the dog looking that way at him, but even his most vivid fantasies paled in comparison to the sexiness of the reality, how the canine's eyes smoldered, so dark with arousal, and the crazy amount that it turned the young man on. He pushed Brian gently away from him, and sat up. He pulled his red and yellow graphic print t-shirt up over his head and then started work on removing his cords. He popped open the button, unzipped his fly, then lowered his trousers, and kicked them off his feet and to the floor. Next came the underwear. As he disrobed, insecurity began to gnaw away at him, and he tried to decide whether his somewhat smaller than average dick was a positive or not. Since Brian was accustomed to being with women, perhaps it was better that Stewie's, er, manhood didn't…announce itself so boldly. On the other hand…But finally Stewie concluded that it most likely didn't matter, the size of his organ, or about the odd little bend near the top, as much as the simple fact that he had a penis. And there were other problems, too. Brian was used to seeing breasts and shapely hips and thighs, not the gangly body that Stewie had to offer.

Out of the corner of his eye he could see that the dog was watching him. Stewie, now fully nude, glanced up, flushed with embarrassment, into Brian's face, which was an inscrutable mask, and Stewie had a feeling he was deliberately making it that way.

The young man stole beneath the bedclothes, plastered in head-to-toe goosebumps. Brian got under the covers, too, and kissed him again. Then the dog dipped below the counterpane and sheets, vanishing from view. Stewie let out a light giggle of delighted expectation of whatever was coming. He thought that it would probably be great, but he still wasn't fully prepared to feel Brian's tongue go right to his hole.

"_The hills are alive- !"_ Stewie sang out in a falsetto, very pleasantly surprised by Brian's latest act of initiative. "Mmmm…" he murmured, enjoying the long strokes across the surface. It had been far too long since Stewie had last experienced such a thing. Then, Brian caught him further off guard by taking his tongue, stiffening it, and actually pushing it past the ring of muscle and into the teenager. Stewie gasped and panted in ecstasy in response to the tongue probing deeper and starting to explore around in there more, lapping away determinedly at Stewie's insides.

"Brian, oh, Brian!"

Stewie made a small, mewling sound of disappointment when Brian abruptly withdrew and the wonderful sensations ended, but was distracted, if not nearly adequately compensated, by the dog's tongue dragging upward and licking his bellybutton. Stewie gasped, giggled, and arched up into the contact.

Brian poked his head out from beneath the blankets and positioned himself between the young man's bent and spread knees. He reached up and skimmed a finger along Stewie's chin.

"I won't hurt you," he said softly. It was an assurance he had no authority to make, of course. They must both be aware that there would inevitably be a degree of pain at first.

"You can hurt me a little," Stewie whispered back provocatively, knowing he would, anyway, but attempting to imply that Brian needn't go too easy on him.

They were hardly eye to eye; rather, Brian's head was above the vicinity between Stewie's nipples. Stewie dipped his own head and turned it awkwardly, trying for a kiss, and not having any luck. He finally gave up and threw his head back onto the pillow, pouting.

"Our bodies would have lined up better if we had done this years ago."

Brian backed out from between Stewie's bent legs. "Go on your knees. It'll be more comfortable for you like that, anyway."

It was not the position Stewie would have wished for. There were many ways in which he'd fantasized having sex with the dog, but if this was to be- as it probably would- the only time he'd ever sleep with Brian, he'd a million times rather be able to watch his love's face, see what it looked like when the canine was in the throes of passion. But Stewie thought it safest not to argue. Arguing might break the moment. With that thought in mind, Stewie felt that if Brian had ordered him to hang upside down from the ceiling by his ankles he would have acquiesced. He assumed the pose readily enough.

Brian got behind him and stood stroking his paws over Stewie's flanks, rather like, the teen thought, one would do to a racehorse or perhaps a racetrack dog. The young man's heart throbbed in nervous excitement; the anticipation was killing him.

At last Brian's member touched Stewie's entrance, just resting there for a moment before the push forward started, the process stretching Stewie increasingly open. As Brian gradually entered him inch by inch, there was burning and pressure, and it was severely uncomfortable. Stewie grunted loudly from between clenched teeth. He endeavored not to tense so much, knowing he was doing himself no favors by not relaxing. Maybe this wasn't such a good idea. Maybe all those homophobes out there who condemned gay sex had the right idea. This certainly didn't feel natural. And yet there was something somehow comforting about it, and furthermore he decided that it was all worth it when he heard the most erotic thing that had ever reached his ears when Brian had finished pushing inside and released a guttural, yet velvety, "Oh, Stewie!"

Brian started off slowly, keeping a gentle, measured rhythm. After a bit, Stewie started to adjust to feeling stretched so wide, of being filled, and the chafing. He was now attuned to the pleasure on the edges of the pain, the pleasure that was starting to move inside. Brian spoke, and Stewie could hear in the dog's voice what a challenge it was for him to hold back.

"Painful?"

"In the most exquisite way," Stewie gasped, grabbing two fistfuls of bed sheets, at the mercy of these feelings of combined pain and burgeoning pleasure that were spreading through him. Before long the pleasure had won out over the pain and he couldn't stop moaning softly.

"Stewie?"

The young man injected a note of inquisitiveness into the grunt that was all he was capable of uttering as acute sensation overwhelmed him, strain of need and exertion pulling strongly upon him. How was such pleasure possible in the world?

"How does it feel now?" Brian asked hoarsely, voice thick with the lust consuming him.

"Full. Strange. Makes me feel almost split in half but…good. ...Perfect! Abso-fucking-lutely indescribably incredible!" Stewie shouted, his voice raising up a full octave as stars burst before his eyes, the effect of Brian suddenly striking his prostate. "God!" He panted loudly and moaned, thrusting back against Brian as the dog continued to pound that same spot over and over. With much struggle, he gathered his thoughts and his breath enough to ask, "What does it feel like for you?"

The only response he got at first was a desperate whine. Brian humped Stewie harder, grunting lowly all the while. It took many moments before the canine pulled it together enough to articulate an answer to Stewie's question, letting it out around a growl. "That you even have to ask that question-!"

The thrusts got rougher, more frantic, and closer together. Brian had a grip on him at the juncture where ass met thighs, on Stewie's sides, and his sharp doggie nails were biting into the tender flesh, but Stewie barely noticed.

"Stewie.." Brian huffed out, "Stewie, touch yourself, I…I'm going to lose it in a minute."

Stewie obeyed, moving a slightly shaky hand toward his member, hissing lowly as he wrapped his fingers around the quivering rock-hard, leaking length. He tugged at it none too gracefully, desperately. It was so very sensitive to the touch that the stimulation was almost too much. He knew a couple more strokes would bring him off. Wanting their orgasms to coincide, just before Stewie felt that his was about ready to sweep him away, he panted out a command to the dog.

"Brian. Come."

At those words, Brian let out a loud, throaty moan that rose up in a sound close to a howl. His hips smacked against Stewie's ass one last time, and presently the young man felt a surge of intense warmth filling him to capacity.

The intense sex had torn him up; his limbs might have been made of gelatin, and he collapsed, panting heavily, onto the bed as Brian rolled off to the side of him. And there he was fresh off his first time, exhausted, somewhat sore, completely satiated, and fairly delirious.

After a minute, he had caught his breath and looked over to his partner; Brian lay watching the ceiling. Stewie sighed, closing his eyes and wallowed in the afterglow, as well as the knowledge that he'd at long last gotten at least a part of his dream, had at least had one night with the love of his reached a hand out and lightly fingered one of Brian's silken ears.

"Brian…"

The dog cupped Stewie's chin in his paw, pulling him in for a quick peck on the lips.

"Shush," he instructed, not unkindly. "Go to sleep."

**BREAK!**

Stewie woke up alone.

In the kitchen, Brian was just sitting down at the table, holding a carafe above a ceramic mug. A pill bottle sat on the table in front of him. From around the relative shelter of the doorjamb, Stewie watched the dog pop an aspirin and gulp down some coffee. He neglected to raise his head at Stewie's leaned against the counter.

"We shouldn't be allowed to drink together," the teen observed, forcing a laid-back chuckle. "Every time we do, it turns into trouble."

Brian looked upward at last, eyes narrowed. "Is that what you consider-" His sentence broke off and began again in a more neutral voice, his face guarded. "What we did last night- that means trouble?"

Stewie made his demeanor just as cautious as Brian's and asked, "Well…doesn't it? I mean, for you? I know you're probably analyzing what happened to death. A fellow like you? A ladies' man with blood of the deepest red? You must be going out of your mind asking yourself just what the fuck you were thinking."

He could read Brian like a book; he could tell the dog was tempted to affirm Stewie's supposition. But that expression lasted only for a second, and then Brian turned a steadfast face on him.

"I wasn't that drunk," he stated, strangely combatively, almost as if he was daring Stewie to dispute it. "I knew what I was doing. I had my reasons, and to tell you the truth, I'm not particularly sorry that it happened." He said the last part after having looked away from Stewie, and having finished, glanced back at the young man and hastily qualified, "I mean, unless you are."

Stewie moved swiftly to the table and pulled up a seat next to the dog, a rushed, vehement confession erupting from his lips, all pretense of indifference gone.

"Look-Brian-I-think-you're-totally-getting-the-wrong-idea-I'm-not-sorry-we-did-what-we-did-in-fact-it-was-the-best-night-of-my-life-I-wanna-be-with-you-officially-you-know-I-wanna-be-a-couple-with-you-so-will-you-go-out-with-me-huh-whadaya-say?"

Brian gawked at him.

"That's…overwhelming, and I'm so flattered…"

Stewie scoffed, sensing a rejection coming and trying not to react in too devastated a manner, even though the anticipatory pain he was feeling had him seconds away from wanting to keel over in his chair.

"No, I am, I really am…I've…always been."

Stewie scoffed harder, sending Brian a highly skeptical look.

"Well, okay, not always." He angled his head to one side and briefly studied the young man before him almost wistfully. "But for longer than you think." He took a sip from his mug; Stewie leaned forward subtly and tried to catch a whiff of it, but from what he could tell, the coffee didn't contain Brian's customary 'liquid courage'. "Stewie, in little more than a month, you'll be in Hanover."

"Brian," said Stewie, mimicking the dog's ultra-grave tone. "I'm staying in Rhode Island."

Brian's head jerked up sharply, and he put the mug down. "What, because of me?"

"I made the decision months ago. I'm going to Brown," Stewie disclosed for the first time to anybody. Noting the flustered look on Brian's face, the kid asked a little snottily, "What's the matter, feel like I'm stealing your school?"

"No, I'm- I'm proud," the dog insisted, still staring in shock. He may have been fibbing about not feeling intruded upon now that Stewie was making his own claim to Brian's precious alma mater, but he hid it well, seemingly honestly pleased by the news as he went on. "I'm like, really, really proud. It feels like you're- ya know- kinda…following in my footsteps. Like I've been something of a role model."

"Uck, stop it." Stewie cringed at the parental-like sentiments Brian had expressed. "Don't…even…you'll give me such a complex, dog!" He touched Brian briefly on the paw. "I'm going to be living off campus. You could come with me, if you wanted. Live with me. Providence is, you know, a very easy distance from here, so you'd be able to easily drive back whenever you wanted and see Peter…"

Brian only said, "You told everybody you were planning on attending Dartmouth."

"So they didn't expect me to visit very often," Stewie smirked.

"Were you ever planning on telling me the truth?"

"I don't know. Maybe eventually. But I was trying to get over you, so I didn't want you expecting to see me often, either."

Something shifted in Brian's face that made Stewie demand, "Wait a minute. Did you sleep with me because you figured I'd be far away soon, and thus any awkwardness afterward would be minimized?"

"No, but I did think-" The dog faltered, looking quite as he did when Peter would sometimes tease him with a laser pointer, and Brian couldn't figure out why he couldn't catch the small red dot when it stalled on one of the walls. "I thought that since you were going to be moving away soon, time was running out to uh…well, resolve the, er, tension between us. I didn't think-" Brian shook his head in a manner that suggested he was wracking his brain for understanding of something. "Do you really-"

"I want to be with you, Brian," said Stewie, his words soaked in sincerity. "I love you. I always have and I always will. I mean, I _love you_ love you. So where do we go from here?"

Stewie caught a glimpse of a half-smile from Brian before the dog glanced away from him. "I didn't think you still loved me like that." Ah. So at some point he had thought that he did.

Stewie placed a hand on Brian's arm and squeezed it gently. "Do you have an answer for me?" He knew what it was, though. Brian was many things, but he didn't indulge in intentional cruelty, and he wouldn't string Stewie along like this. If Brian was decided against him, he never would've allowed this discussion to go on for this long.

Yet even though he knew that he already had Brian, the brand-new adult was so thrilled when the dog looked at him and said quite pompously, with the air of making a great concession, but smiling with all the radiance of the warmest love, "You know, you may be a genius, but you are ignorant of many of the wider ways of the world you're about to be let loose upon. Practical life skills and all. You're going to need someone there to make sure you don't spiral out of control and cause untold destruction to it and/or yourself; a stabilizing force, so to speak." He smiled broader, then leaned forward, pressing his lips to Stewie's. "You saved my life; I guess it's only fair that I save yours."

_**The End**_


End file.
